The future me is going to own a large house, possibly an apartment building. The rooms are there for artists who need retreats. Mostly writers. The retreats can be for a few weeks or a few years.
A garden. A communal space. Lots of quiet. It should feel like Rivendell, if it was a real place and in our world, in the here and now. You shouldn’t feel like you’ve stepped back in time when you enter. You should feel present, in the present.
The place has good smells. It feels of care, and comfort. Beauty. An energizing place for the hearts that know that calm and simple is often more energetic than a star.
This is one of the places my future self dwells. I just have to help him get there. And someday, I’ll be him, and he’ll be me, and I’ll remember the moment I wrote this, and smile, as I look at someone kindly and say,
“Welcome.”